


Spectre Inspector

by musiclily88, sweet_disposition



Category: BBC Radio 1 RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Character Death, Ghost Adventures - Freeform, Ghost Nick, Ghost Zayn, Ghosts, Larry Stylinson Is Real, M/M, Nick is a ghost, Past, Past Character Death, They ARE Ghosts, Zayn is a ghost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 02:45:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5113295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musiclily88/pseuds/musiclily88, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweet_disposition/pseuds/sweet_disposition
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn is a ghost, while Louis just wants to kiss Harry's face, and Niall's keen to watch. Liam just wants an adventure?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spectre Inspector

**Author's Note:**

> This is based entirely on Ghost Adventures. We like Ghosts Adventures.
> 
> Zayn goes ghost. No literally.
> 
> HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!!!!!!

“This is idiotic,” Harry says, hefting the sizable camera up onto his shoulder. He’s not a small guy, and the camera Louis sort-of-maybe forced on him is heavy.

“It is idiotic,” Louis agrees, flicking his fringe to one side. “All my best ideas are.”

“It wasn’t even your idea! It was Simon bleeding Cowell’s idea, and I’ve no idea why he even hired you at all!” Harry argues.

“We have a very professional looking webpage,” Niall explains. “And I should know. I designed it.”

“Okay, so if Louis is the team mascot-slash-leader, and Niall is the brains behind the operation, then what’s Liam?”

“The muscle,” Liam says with a pained sigh. “And the one whose bum always gets pinched by horny ghosts.”

“Right. And remind me again why I agreed to this,” Harry mutters.

“I can be very persuasive.” Louis shoots him a predatory smile. “Now buckle up. We’re going in.”

They all square their shoulders and step tentatively onto the concrete steps outside the formerly glorious Eddington’s School for Boys. _Formerly_ glorious, now purportedly haunted.

It was like this: Simon Cowell decided to expand his empire, looking to become a hotelier. And, in an “all the gin joints” kind of way, he stumbled onto _their_ website, which offers parapsychology services to private donors.

He was hoping to turn the haunted school into an upscale theme hotel—still haunted, but hopefully not by malicious ghosts. He’s paying them ridiculous amounts of money to do research, capturing some data, both on film and via electronic readouts. It meant they could immediately afford to buy a new EVP reader—one not currently held together by duct tape.

They carefully traipse their way into the lobby, where Niall will set up their Nerve Center—banks of monitors and his weird little sensors and other things he’s given ridiculous pet names to. He’s not the most foolhardy of their bunch, but he’s supportive. He’s not one to go headlong into danger—hates small spaces and crowds, doesn’t like to feel hemmed in, so he sticks behind and analyzes their footage. It’s a necessary job, and no one mocks him for his fears. Mostly.

It started with Louis, as most of their strange endeavours tend to do. Because Louis has this _thing._ And Louis gets into many things, such as that one time he was really into brightly coloured braces matched with skinny trousers, and the obsession he currently has with Harry. 

But his obsession with the paranormal has lingered, and it started with reality telly, of all things. Ghost Adventures, while a laughing matter, is also not a laughing matter to Louis. Louis doesn’t take himself seriously, but he tries with ever fibre of his being to build up his own credibility in what most people still refer to as a pseudo-science.

So Louis plays host, narrates the videos they sometimes take with one another of abandoned hospitals and mouldy old caves. Mostly, however, they need funding, and that’s where Cowell comes in.

Liam got dragged into things early on, back when he and Louis were still uni flatmates and Liam was easily persuaded by the threat of a tit-twister. Technically Liam studied business administration, which luckily meant he could sort of handle the team’s finances.

(Harry is literally on his first outing with them, and it’s maybe only because Louis turned on the charm. Harry’s not an easy mark, but he does like to to help people when he can—and as a film student, he’s in a great position to do so right now.

“You have your own camera!” Louis pointed out, ducking close into Harry’s personal space.

Louis is very persuasive.)

“I’m afraid of, like.” Harry sets his camera down in the lobby near to where Niall is setting up his equipment. “Probably just about anything we’re likely to find in this place.”

“Cobwebs?” Niall offers, peering down at a monitor, which sets his face in an eerie glow.

“Asbestos?” Liam says next, peering up at a broken light fixture and rubbing his palms together as if preparing himself for manual labour.

“Academia at large?” Louis snickers, turning on the EVP detector and the Spirit Box to test out their charge.

“All of the above,” Harry agrees on a sigh. He swears he can hear someone whisper in his ear, swears he can hear a little murmur of the word _ghosts,_ but even he knows that’s a bit foolish.

A crackling burst of white noise comes out of the Spirit Box, and Louis nods. Harry squints at it through the gloom. “Is it dodgy or something? Do you need to kick it to make it work right?”

“No that’s—that’s what it does. It picks up on emissions we can’t hear with the naked ear and it transmits them. When no one’s talking, it’s just—static.”

“I don’t like it. It’s making me jumpy.” Harry pouts.

“Well, you don’t have to hold it. You just have to hold the camera.” Louis gives him a withering stare, but then softens when he sees how genuinely on-edge Harry looks. “Please. And anyway, you’ll be with me the whole time. Not leaving your side.”

“He can’t, really, since you’ve the camera.” Liam, ever practical. He takes on the necessary task of actually unpacking all their stuff, while Louis faffs about trying to calm Harry down and Niall is absorbed entirely by his technology.

Eventually they’ve set up everything, so they work out a game plan. Firstly, Liam and Louis will explore together, getting the lay of the land and navigating the space carefully to assess where they need to analyze further. Liam volunteers to head to the _arguably scariest spot,_ the reason the school’s well-known to be haunted: the clocktower, complete with non-functioning bell. It’s the spot where a student committed suicide, plummeting to his death down the five storeys of the school.

(Likely he did it to look brave, especially compared to Harry and Niall reporting all their fears about ghosts and clowns and demons, but Louis just shrugged and let him have at it.)

While he’s doing that, Harry and Louis will find a classroom and let the Spirit Box do its thing, hoping to get in touch with a _different_ ghost, one who also killed himself. And part of the appeal of this place, really, is the back story of why.

They take a quick second to film a segment of Louis explaining: “It’s a tragic thing, it is. This student and his professor were having an affair—and their tryst was taboo for more reasons than one. Not only was their age difference scandalous, they were also both males. In the 1940s, this was practically a death sentence in and of itself. Their meeting spot was that clocktower, and it’s the place our student fell to his tragic death after having his heart broken by his true love.” He pauses for dramatic effect, and because he actually seems a little emotional. “The professor soon followed suit. It turns out this student left a suicide note, which named the professor as his lover—and the cause of his depressive state.” He finishes with a somber expression.

“Shit that’s dramatic.” Harry mutters, turning off the camera and glancing around the dark room. It’s a fairly clear night, a bit of moonlight streaming through the glassless windows and leaving a silver cast to the empty classroom. Harry thinks for a moment that Louis looks a bit ghostly himself in this light, the hallows of his cheeks exaggerated by the shadows. He’d like to kiss them, fit his lips against Louis’ stubbly skin, but perhaps now is not the time. They’re lucky that Liam chose the previous moment to duck into a classroom, away from the corridor they’re currently exploring—and he just wants to— 

He doesn’t have long to perseverate on that thought though, as a voice comes through the seemingly meaningless din of the Spirit Box.

“Get out!” 

The voice is garbled a bit, sounding as if the speaker has pebbles wedged into his throat, but the intention is clear, they aren’t wanted here. Harry moves quickly, launching himself onto Louis’ back with a terrified screech, nearly dropping his camera in the process. 

“Fuck, did you hear that?” Louis is wide-eyed and cradling Harry’s camera in his arms. 

“Yeah.” Harry’s reply is mere squeak, his voice raising about three octaves. 

“Scared, Styles?” Louis teases, helping Harry back onto his feet. If he finds the way Harry fiddles nervously with his shirt endearing, he refuses to tell. 

“No, I mean, it could just be interference, some arsehole teenagers trying to mess with us.” Harry is lying, it’s apparent in the way he continues to glance over his shoulder that he is genuinely spooked. Louis knows because he used to react similarly, always checking behind himself to make sure some knife wielding spectre wasn’t behind him, waiting to pounce. 

“Checking for spooks? It’s not quite like that, you know. Not like in the movies. It’s more complicated,” Louis starts with a sympathetic chuckle. “They don’t usually appear fully formed, not as a full apparition. That’s what we call them. By we, I mean parapsychologists,” he adds, chest puffed out like a proper peacock. 

“I know what apparition means, pal. I read lots of gothic horror when I was younger. Love a bit of Poe.” Harry rolls his eyes.

This makes Louis grin. “Oh Hazza, talk emo to me. You were totally the weird art kid, I can tell.” Louis is flirting, or he hopes he is. After a month of dropping not-so-subtle hints, though, he’s become quite sure that Harry is the most oblivious and frustrating person he’s ever met. 

“Well, this weird art kid is doing you a big favor, so maybe be nice, yeah?” Ah. Message not received: Harry definitely doesn’t speak the same flirting language as Louis.

“Sorry, just taking the piss. Dunno, I’ve got a big mouth and sometimes it just gets away from me. Um, so let’s tour the place yeah?” Louis backpedals, hoping he can salvage what sliver of a chance he has left at scoring a real date with Harry. 

They move to a side corridor after that, taking the Spirit Box and Harry’s camera with them. Louis walks with Harry in awkward silence, cringing when he hears a familiar chime in his ear. 

“Smooth, Tommo. You know, compliments get you way closer to bagging the bloke than insults do,” Niall’s voice hisses into his ear piece. 

Louis looks around and smirks as he holds his middle finger up to one of the surveillance cameras they’d set up. He knows Harry can’t see because it’s too dark, but Niall will certainly receive the message. 

“See, that’s the kind of shite I’m talking about. Cut it out, mate. Also, stop yer moping and get back to work.” Niall’s words come through, but Louis has no time to reply as a door slams somewhere ahead of them in the dark hall. 

“Jesus Christ! What the hell, Louis? Please tell me that Liam fucking around with us. Liam! Stop that!” Harry calls out, hiding behind Louis and praying for a human response to the noise. 

“Shh, turn on the camera. I think we’ve got a live—er, dead one?” Louis directs, ever the professional. “Liam!” he yells next, “get over here with the full-spectrum camera, we need you!”

They soon hear Liam’s feet pounding down the corridor. “I’ve got the full-spectrum, it’ll hopefully get what we need!” Liam fumbles for it, his voice going stiff as he adds an explanation for Harry. “It shows heat and infrared, so we can see if there are figures nearby.”

Harry sniffs. “I did do some research, ya know.” He sets his camera on his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

They head towards the classroom with the now-shut door, only to see—nothing. They see absolutely nothing. Their eyes are adjusted to the darkness, and their screens are poised on the scene before them. But they see nothing.

They heave a collective sigh, quickly scouring the rest of the building in order to determine their footwork. Then they split for real, Liam heading to the clocktower with a heat-sensitive handycam, while Louis and Harry locate a classroom with a decent view of the tower.

If Louis decides to use it as an excuse to keep flirting, no one but Harry needs to know it.

They set up the Spirit Box on a dusty desk, somehow still undisturbed even after all these years. Louis sets up a vocal recorder while Harry flips on his camera, and then Louis starts to grandstand.

“We’re here in an abandoned classroom, looking to contact the professor who jumped to his death from this school. Sir, if you are present here, please speak to us!”

They get garbled static for the first seven minutes, during which Harry wanders around aimlessly. He frames artistic shots of shadowy corners and Louis looking intense and pensive. During the eighth minute, they get splutters from the Spirit Box, and Harry nearly drops his camera.

Then they get a ringing and very clear word: “Grim,” the Box barks at them, which makes Louis smile.

“Is a bit grim, innit?” he mutters before clearing his throat. “Grim? What’s so grim about this place, sir? What would you like to communicate with us?”

More static, before they get a second message, and it sounds vaguely like “Shaw.”

“Saw? Show? What did it say?” Harry murmurs, ducking in close to catch Louis’ response.

“We can analyze it later. We have to keep him engaged. Sir, keep speaking with us! What happened here at this school? What happened to you?”

They wait again, for so long that they both lose track of time. Louis tries again. “Sir, tell us what happened at this school. Tell us about the tragedy that befell you.”

The Spirit Box surges with renewed static until it emits a third message. “Love did.”

“Shit,” Harry mutters, casting a wild look at Louis. They stare open-mouthed at one another until a glowy orb shoots through the room, spinning for a moment before plummeting out the window. “Was—was that real?” Harry whispers.

“Reckon so.” Louis nods shakily. “Head back to the Nerve Center to check in?”

“Sure.”

 

Meanwhile Liam has already climbed the clocktower, all by his lonesome, burdened only by the full-spectrum cam, which is hand-held. He wants to be able to run if he needs to, not just because he’s up five storeys in an abandoned building.

The belltower looks like he expects, based on a few too many viewings of various Harry Potter films, and it’s covered in dust and general grossness. And bird feces.

He didn’t think to bring some kind of charged object, some kind of possessed or haunted talisman to help convince the ghost to manifest, but he hopes he won’t need it. He hopes the ghost has enough going on that he’ll just—zap into existence, right in front of his eyes.

It’s unlikely, but Liam really is an optimist, even about death.

He murmurs coaxingly to the empty tower, generally welcoming phrases. He’s not quite as out-there as Louis, has a softer style of interacting with spirits. “Hi there,” he begins, working his way around the giant bell. “I’d like to speak with you, if you’re listening. Can you say something?” He sets the EVP detector down by the top of the stairs, swiveling his small camera around to capture the room.

He doesn’t see any heat manifesting, but he doesn’t give up. “I’m here to listen to you, to try to help, if you need.”

“The last time I was up here, I got _helped_ right over the ledge.”

Liam curses and spins around, only to see—nothing.

He heard a fully-formed, coherent sentence, and he can’t see a goddamn thing.

“Hello?” he tries, swallowing down the lump in his throat.

“Hi,” comes the voice again. It belongs to a bloke and sounds smokey, lucid.

“Are—who are you?”

“The one you’re looking for.” His voice holds a bit of humour, a touch of something—alive. It sends a gentle thrill down Liam’s back, like when he hears a really good song for the first time, like he just wants to _listen._

“The—the dead student? The one who jumped?”

“Sure,” is the response he gets, followed by a breeze that sweeps at his hair and clothes, making his eyes water. “Only I didn’t jump.”

“Where—which direction should I look at to talk to you?” he asks, holding the camera up carefully. “I can’t see you.”

“Why do you want to see me?”

“It’s just—you’re not even showing up on my heat sensors. It’s like there’s nothing here.”

“Exactly right.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Nothing to get.”

Liam sighs. “It’s too hard to talk to air.”

The spirit sighs as well, and even that sounds vaguely—melodic. “The heat camera won’t pick me up, mate. They never do.”

“Never?”

“I mean. They get my voice, if that’s what you’re interested in.” And then he materializes, simply snaps into existence without a moment’s notice, startling Liam nearly out of his skin.

They peer at one another, although Liam’s fairly sure this spirit has already looked at him plenty, since Liam’s all, like, actually visible, all the time. The bloke is in a school uniform, but it’s mussed, like maybe he wasn’t fussy about it. His tie is loose, and the sleeves of his blazer are rolled up. He has a cigarette behind one ear and a very sardonic smile plastered on.

When Liam finally gets to his face, gets to the smile, he gasps a bit. If ghosts can be beautiful—and Liam’s never actually seen a _fully_ fully corporeal ghost—this bloke is otherworldly. Which, well. Yes.

He’s got long lashes and full lips and thick black hair, and Liam absolutely understands why a professor would risk everything to fuck this guy, to get a chance to love him in any way at all.

“Hi,” he says, taking the cigarette out from behind his ear.

“Can ghosts smoke?”

“Some of us can.” The cigarette tip begins to smoulder, burning cherry orange-red. It’s like a beacon in the dark belltower.

“You, um. You didn’t jump, though? Can you say more about that?” He’s still careful with the camera, although the ghost is right—he doesn’t show up on the footage at all. But Liam can at least try to catch his voice.

“What, you’re my therapist now? A journalist here for an exclusive?”

Liam blinks. “Dude, when did you even die? How do you know to say that kind of shit?”

“I’m dead, not obtuse.”

“Right.” He literally shakes himself, coming back to the present moment. “If you didn’t jump then what happened? There was—there was a note.”

“Notes can be forged.” The bloke shrugs, cigarette burning hot in his hand.

Liam can’t stop staring. “Okay. What happened? And what’s your name, by the way?”

“Zayn.” The stranger takes a deep drag, looking Liam dead in the eye. “You?”

“Liam.”

“Pleasure.”

“Same.”

“Right, so the tawdry tale isn’t usually something I feel like getting all into, but I’m bored and you’re here, so fine. I’ll indulge. Settle in, yeah?”

Liam shrugs, looking side to side, trying to find a spot to sit down. A _clean_ spot to sit down. Eventually he just leans against the wall, affecting a casual stance. It’s fake, and his pulse is hot and heavy in his chest and ears.

“I—well, I was fucking my professor, right, and that wasn’t allowed for about seventeen reasons, not least of which is that I’m, you know, _not a full white,_ as it would be said. And a bloke. And a student.” Zayn snorts a bit. “God, I haven’t told this story in so long.”

“Uh,” Liam stutters, blinking rapidly. “I mean, you don’t have to, if it’s too hard?”

“Nah, it’s—it’ll be good for me.” Zayn nods once, taking a drag of his cig.

“Those things’ll kill you,” Liam responds, biting his lip over a pleased smile.

“Can’t kill the already dead, obviously.” Zayn rolls his eyes. “So I was fucking my professor, and I was about to graduate, and I had an in at Oxford, and everything was mostly all right. It was mostly all right.” He pauses. “And then my roommate, this ridiculous kid I barely knew—Ethan came on to me, professed his _love_ for me.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. He asked me up here, tricked me up here, really, knowing it was where I usually met Nick. Pretenses and all. And he told me he loved me, he kissed me, and I—shit.” Zayn scrubs a hand over his jaw, looking pained. “I laughed.”

“Shit,” Liam agrees.

“And he lost it. He shoved at me, pushed me, punched me for ages. He was bigger than me, not hard to be, I guess, but he backed me against that ledge.” Zayn points. “He backed me to it, and then—just then, he shoved.”

“Oh my god.” Liam’s breathless, he’s practically lost consciousness, he’s totally in the woods with this. He’s barely holding onto the camera, even, probably.

“My mind was blank on the way down. Couldn’t think about anything except how blue the sky was. It was a beautiful day, the day I died.”

Liam pivots forward, wanting to hug him, except—humans can’t hug ghosts, not actually. He aborts his efforts and frowns, apologetic. “Fuck, I’m so—I’m so sorry.”

“Aren’t you just?” Zayn asks, quirking up one eyebrow. “Anyhow, go post that on your precious little blog, will you? Have fun with it.”

“That’s not what this is about, I don’t do this for the attention or the viewers or anything like that. I got into this because like. Just, death is scary as fuck and it, it would be nice to know there’s some sort of an afterlife,” Liam starts with a small sigh. 

“Well, here’s your answer. I’m here so there must be some semblance of an afterlife.” Zayn shrugs, gliding over the floor and stopping in front of the window. 

“Honestly, the real reason why I really got into this is because the day after my grandad died, he came to me. My parents were convinced it was just a dream or some sort of hallucination brought on by my grief.” Liam deflates, stepping beside Zayn and looking out at the grounds of the school. “I was so sure it was real, and I wanted it to be. I wanted to know that if you love someone enough, you don’t have to let go, ever.” 

“Well, suppose that’s sort of true. But it gets a bit tricky, like I can never really touch my boyfriend ever again, even though we’re both stuck here forever. I can’t feel anything, I’m just ether, an echo of what’s left of me.” Zayn sighs heavily. 

“So why don’t you move on?” Liam asks carefully, biting his lip as he takes in just how delicate Zayn is, and yet somehow his cheekbone are still sharp and his jaw angular. Zayn was—is stunning. 

“Hey, Leemo? Where are you?” Louis voice cuts through the tense silence, causing Liam to turn toward the door. 

“I’m right here! Come in, you’ve got to see—” Liam starts, his face instantly falling when he turns back to find that Zayn is gone. 

“See what?” Harry is poking his head through the doorway, his goofy lovestruck smile unmistakable, even in the dark. He sets his camera down near the door, entering the room proper.

“Nothing.” Liam replies, crestfallen and feeling a bit sick. Liam doesn’t do well with abrupt endings, and somehow this one has got his chest in knots, leaving him a bit breathless. 

“You okay mate?” Louis calls out as he walks behind Harry and wraps an arm around his waist. It’s effortless, really. They just fit together as if it’s how they were always meant to be, and Liam is willing to admit that he’s a bit jealous. 

“I’m all right, I just, I saw him. Full body apparition. He was right here and he was—amazing.” Liam sighs heavily, looking around the room and hoping to see Zayn peering from the rafters or hiding behind a door, but he’s nowhere to be seen. 

“Shut up, that’s fucking awesome—full body apparition! Did you get it on camera?” As always, Louis’ mind is on the chase, the thrill of bagging a big piece of evidence that he can show his client. Luckily, in this case, his client is a bloke with loads of cash. 

“I did, sort of. He wouldn’t show up on the infrared camera. P.S., these are a waste of fucking money, he said ghosts almost never show up on them.” Liam snorts, rewinding his camera to show Louis the footage. 

“Right, I’m sure he did.” Louis scoffs, rolling his eyes at Liam before watching the screen as he rewound it.

“What the fuck, the camera is dead. I got nothing.” Liam curses as the camera screen flashes bright and then goes dark. “Not cool, Zayn!” he yells to the room at large. 

“God damn it, Niall, I told you to charge the bloody cameras last night!” Louis curses into Harry’s camera so his mate waiting outside was sure to hear. 

“I did, you great tit. All the cameras had full battery power when we started, there’s no way that battery should have died that quickly.” Niall’s reply comes through with an annoyed hiss. 

“Now Louis, don’t be rude,” Harry mumbles from his position near the bell, the boards creaking in warning beneath his feet. 

“Haz, careful get ba—“ is all Louis is able to get out before a loud crack fills the room, and right before his eyes Harry starts to fall through the floor. He acts on instinct, quickly throwing an arm out and catching Harry, yanking him back onto the solid floor. 

“Louis! You, you saved me.” Harry is panting, his eyes wide and his heart still racing from the sudden shock. Without warning, he lunges forward and presses his lips against Louis’ in a passionate kiss. 

“About fucking time!” Liam grumps, watching them snog right there in the bell tower. And it’s at that moment that Zayn deigns to reappear, right by Liam’s side. Liam’s not shocked this time, thankfully, but he’s annoyed and frustrated, so he throws out an elbow, aiming for Zayn’s ribs.

But he hits nothing, because Zayn is a spirit.

“This is disgusting. Why are you watching them tongue-kiss?” Zayn hisses, ducking close to Liam’s ear. Liam thinks he feels a chill flow through him, but dismisses it, in light of everything.

“I’m hardly the voyeur in this scenario. Plus, rude, thanks so much for draining my camera.”

“You’re welcome. Come on, I have something to show you.”

“I’m getting a regular camera before we go anywhere else. And don’t you dare eat up the juice on this one.”

“On my honour.”

Liam snorts, bending to pick up the Spirit Box before they walk out of the tower. Well, Liam walks and Zayn just sort of _lists_ forward. They descend slowly to the lobby, reaching Nerve Center where Niall is raptly tuned in to his monitor.

“You’re gross,” Liam says, rolling his eyes.

“Harry’s the one who set his camera down while it was still on. I’m just watching to see if any more orbs manifest in the footage.” Niall leans in, bending one arm to set his chin on his hand.

“Okay. This is Zayn. Zayn, this is Niall. Say hi.”

“Hi, Niall.”

“Hi.” Niall tips his head to one side, looking at the screen quizzically. “Think I could sell this on the internet? How much does PornHub pay for amateur stuff?”

“If they start undoing buttons, you turn off your monitor and go for a smoke break like a gentleman,” Liam orders. “I mean it.” He turns to Zayn and smirks, while Zayn is glaring at Niall. Apparently Zayn doesn’t like being ignored. “I’m grabbing a regular handycam and going to some classrooms, okay?”

“Sure.” Niall waves a hand, eyes glazing over.

“You’re gross,” Liam repeats.

Then he and Zayn are off, heading to a main staircase. Only once they’re nearly completely out of the room do they hear Niall squawk, loudly, and start cursing so quickly his Irish accent is almost incomprehensible. “What the feck is that?” he yells to their retreating figures.

“It’s a who!” Zayn calls in response. “Mind your manners.”

“Who the feck! What the gods! Why the shit?”

“Be back soon!” Liam assures him, flicking the camera open. “So what are we doing, then?” he asks, trying not to stare at Zayn’s insane cheekbones.

“Going to talk to Nick.”

“Really?” Liam’s face lights up, his grin making his eyes go squinty.

“And you’re going to help.”

“I am?”

“Yep.”

The classroom they eventually enter looks like most of the others—dusty, in slight disarray, and full of cobwebs. “You need to open that,” Zayn says, pointing to the only window in the room that still has a pane of glass in it.

Liam blinks six times in quick succession. “I do?”

“It’s the one he jumped out of,” he replies softly. “I saw him do it.”

“Oh.” Liam crosses the room and unlocks the window, attempting to pry it up despite the rusty tracking. It makes a terrible noise, as though Liam is wrenching its heart out, before it moves open about halfway.

“That’s fine.” Zayn shrugs. “Okay, now we need that thing on.” He points to the Spirit Box and to the camera in quick succession.

Liam puts the Box on a desk and turns the camera on, pointing it toward Zayn.

“Remember how I said I can’t ever touch him?” Zayn asks quietly, silently scuffing his shoe on the floor. “It’s because he won’t—like, let me. Won’t listen, won’t accept contact at all. He doesn’t know I didn’t kill myself, and nothing works, okay? So you need to help me, because I can’t live with this anymore.”

“You—” Liam shuts up immediately when he sees the look on Zayn’s face, taking in his crestfallen, crumpled appearance. “Okay. What should I do?”

“You need to talk to him, like to say the things I need to say.” He’s close to pleading but trying to hide it, and even Liam can tell it.

So Liam stands in the corner across from the open window, holding up the camera to catch as much of the room as possible. Then he listens to Zayn’s dictation, saying the following:

“Nick? Nicholas Grimshaw? Are you present in the room with us?”

“Nick, if you are here, please let us know!”

“This is a safe place for you to talk!”

“Are you angry? Or sad?”

Only after that question do they get a response through the Spirit Box: “Leave.”

Liam shakes his head slowly. “We’re not leaving, Nick, not when you need us. We’re here to help you.”

“Left. He,” the Box crackles.

Zayn exhales loudly. “No, I didn’t leave! I was there the whole time! I didn’t kill myself, and I didn’t leave you behind! I saw it all!”

Liam translates this to Nick, carefully.

“Lie.”

“No, he’s not lying, Nick. The note wasn’t real. We swear it,” Liam calls out. He still hasn’t managed to capture any footage, but he thinks he’s getting some audio, at least. He’s trying to make sense of this, trying to reach back into his knowledge about ghosts to see exactly what’s happening. He knows that angry ghosts usually manifest the strongest presentations, and he supposes that’s why Zayn’s stuck around so long. Someone who didn’t kill himself has plenty fucking right to be an angry spirit.

But Nick legitimately did kill himself, it would seem, so he’s more—abjectly sad, he’s depression in the form of air and wind. He’s a ruin.

“Swear.”

“I fucking swear,” Zayn whispers, eyes bright and wet-looking.

“He swears,” Liam adds.

A half-form flickers into view, mostly see-through, dressed in pressed trousers and a neat cardigan. Part of his face is covered in blood, and he gapes his mouth open wide like he wants to implore them of something.

“He’s here, he wants to convene with you,” Liam prods gently.

“Why.” His mouth doesn’t move, but the Spirit Box registers the question anyway.

“Oh, Nick. He loves you.”

Nick narrows his eyes at Liam and then looks to Zayn, his entire figure softening. They slowly gravitate towards one another—not walking, because they don’t do that anymore, but moving nonetheless. Nick raises one hand hand up, waiting for Zayn to reciprocate—and then he does, and he’s immediately disappearing into nothing, nothing at all.

“Goddamn fucking hell, this isn’t fair!” Zayn screams, collapsing where he stands. His falling body makes no sound, just folds in so he’s nearly tucked into a ball.

“Um.” Liam bites his lip. “What was that?”

“He just, like, passed on to the other side, or whatever. Just there, before he even touched me. Fuck.” Zayn covers his face with his hands, scrubbing down hard.

“But—that, like, doesn’t that mean you can cross over too? Now that the air is clear or something.”

Zayn is quiet for a few moments. He uncovers his face before sitting down hard onto his haunches. “I—something feels different.”

Liam looks over at Zayn, watches him slowly get to his feet in the dim light. “What do you need to do?”

Zayn licks his lips. “Well, I’ll pass over soon, I reckon. But first I have to do something.”

“What could you possibly have left to do?” Liam asks, looking around the room as if something would appear to him, another ghost possibly. 

“Follow me.” Zayn smirks, gliding out the door and down the hall. 

“Bloody hell, slow down mate.” Liam is struggling to keep up as he doesn’t have the luxury of floating above the ground or just apparating where he pleases.

“Do try to keep up Leem, I’m on a limited time schedule. Got big things to do, like cross over into the great beyond.” Zayn laughs, turning the corner to where Niall is sat and then disappearing. 

Liam crouches around the corner and watches as all the monitors and lights go dark. Trying his hardest to contain his giggles when Niall screeches like a teenage girl. 

“Get out, leave now!” Zayn’s voice comes out, a bit more booming than usual. 

“Feck, please don’t hurt me.” Niall pleads in the dark, yelping and knocking some of his equipment over. “That’s me nipple, what the fuck! Go away!” He shouts,, the lights instantly turning back on, along with his monitors. 

“Okay, that’s one down.” Zayn has reappeared in front of Liam with a satisfied smirk on his ghostly face. 

“Really, so your last act is to get your jollies from scaring people?” Liam mutters with a shake of his head. 

“Hey, I am perpetually 16, what do you want from me?” Zayn points out with a echoing laugh, already floating away from Liam.

“Where are you going?” Liam calls after him, looking up and spotting him near the bell tower where he’d first met him. “Don’t.” He warns with a shake of his head.

“Oh Liam, live a little. Really, if you don’t, you’ll regret it someday. Take it from someone who knows.” Zayn is already in the doorway when Liam reaches the bell tower, a bit breathless from having to actually climb the stairs. 

Louis is pressed against the window while Harry is caressing his face when Zayn drifts into the room, stopping to watch them for a bit. 

“This is without a doubt the weirdest date I’ve ever been on,” Harry starts, shaking his head as he runs his thumb along Louis’ cheek. 

“Wait? You think this is a date?” Louis sputters, his cheeks turning a bright shade of pink.

“It’s not?” Harry is clearly upset.

“No, I mean—fuck, I’m so nervous.” Louis’ shoulders hunch over as he tries to find the right words. “I want to date you, so bad. But like, this isn’t a proper date, is it? I’m so bad at dating, and you’re so pretty and I’ve been trying to find a reason to be alone with you for months,” he babbles rather gracelessly.

“Oh? Well, I’ve been doing the same. I mean, I really like you, like you. Like as in more than a mate.” Liam works extra hard to hold in his giggles as he listened to Harry struggle to explain his feelings. 

Liam doesn’t have to resist his giggles too much longer though as Zayn quickly manifests himself to Louis and Harry and yells out a resounding “Boo!”

“Original.” Liam scoffs as he watches Louis and Harry scream and run out of the bell tower. “Nice work.” He claps once they’re gone, stepping into the room and standing next to Zayn. 

“Not my finest or most refined scare. But sometimes simple is better. Honestly, scaring people is one of the greatest pleasures for a ghost.” Zayn laughs.

“So, let me check. You refrained from going into the light so you could scare my friends?”

“I did.”

“But that—but now you’re going to, uh.” Liam falls breathless, biting his bottom lip.

“I’m gonna try.” Zayn ducks his head as though embarrassed. “You can even film it if you want.”

“You gonna tell my granddad I love him?”

Zayn chuckles. “I suppose I do owe you.”

Liam shrugs a bit, stepping closer to Zayn. “It was lovely to meet you.” He takes a deep breath and leans in, ghosting a kiss on Zayn’s cheek.

“Oh Christ, that tickles!” Zayn cries, falling away from Liam with a laugh. This makes Liam giggle too, the hard feeling in his chest opening up a bit, easing its way. “You’re a good one, you are.”

“Thanks. You’re, like, really pretty.”

This makes Zayn cackle, and right as his laugh reaches a fever pitch, he disappears.

 

Cowell pays them through the nose for their footage, and he offers Harry and Louis the penthouse room for their honeymoon.

**Author's Note:**

> our tumblrs:
> 
> musiclily
> 
> chicagocuppycake


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